To understand the underlying tension between the Mets’ current front office regime and the 1986 Mets, you only need revert to spring training three years ago in Port St. Lucie, Fla.
Paul DePodesta, then in his first months as the Mets’ vice president of player development and amateur scouting, stood in front of the assembled minor league staff for his first meeting and, according to a witness, dropped a grenade that still reverberates through the organization.
“I’m tired of hearing about the ’86 Mets,” DePodesta told the staff, according to the witness.
Mookie Wilson, then about to begin his second stint as the Mets first base coach, certainly knew about the comment.
Just about any member of that fabled world championship team who still had contact with the organization at the time heard about the comment. Regardless of the intent, many of the ’86 Mets took it as a sign of disrespect from one of general manager Sandy Alderson’s top lieutenants.
As one of the ’86 Mets said Friday: “All those championship teams [DePodesta] played on at Harvard.”
Said another member of the ’86 Mets, referring to Alderson’s Oakland pedigree: “Those guys, the last time they had a good team, we were playing.”
So maybe it should come as little surprise that Wilson takes shots at the Alderson regime in his soon-to-be released autobiography, “Mookie: Life, Baseball and the ’86 Mets.”
Wilson, upset he was never given an explanation for his firing as first base coach following the 2011 season, states he has become a “hood ornament” within the Mets organization as a team ambassador. He also gives his opinion of the Alderson regime in the one season he witnessed up close.
“I felt like I was watching the deterioration of the Mets organization,” Wilson writes. “They seemed to have no identity.”
And Wilson states there’s no room for any member of the ’86 Mets in a position of authority within the Alderson regime. You would take that to mean the manager’s office or front office, given that Tim Teufel became the third base coach under Alderson’s watch.
In reality, what difference does it make? The ’86 Mets are certainly well-represented elsewhere within the organization, and Alderson has been entrusted with building a winner, not worrying about how the Mets’ glorious past is honored.
But the rift between the ’86 Mets and this front office might come down to the fact Alderson has failed to produce a team with even a winning record since his arrival after the 2010 season. All the while, the ’86 Mets feel as if they have been marginalized.
“If they would have come in here and turned this thing around, it might be a different feeling,” said a member of the ’86 Mets. “At this point they are still betting on the next roll.”
The same player questioned whether Alderson, DePodesta and special assistant J.P. Ricciardi have an understanding about the love affair between Mets fans and the iconic ’86 team.
“New York fans are the most passionate there are in the world and they take sports heroes to heart,” the player said. “There is an emotional attachment and I don’t know if those guys have that kind of history with the fans.”
For his part, DePodesta denies saying in a staff meeting he was tired of hearing about the ’86 Mets.
“I have reverence for the ’86 Mets,” DePodesta said in a text message. “I have too much respect for everything that has come before me in every organization I’ve been in to say something like that.”
But many of the ’86 Mets don’t want to hear it. When one player was asked if there is a disconnect between that world championship team and this front office, his first comment was, “You know what DePodesta said, right?”
It doesn’t make Mookie Wilson right in his attack on the front office, but maybe lends some perspective to the situation.